Strands of Straw

I rebel against myself.

I follow none of the rules I make;

no ordinance of self do I follow

once I’ve set it forth.

Everyone else must adhere to the

velcro walls I create.

Yet I am boundless.

I soar through unfettered skies,

slipping the surly bonds of Earth

over and over again;

far above the rest of you,

I am free.

In this world I have created,

I am free.

Everything I do,

I seem to do without eyes.

I do not want to see what is

coming towards me,

what lies ahead.

I stumble through my own life,

unseeing, unsure;

unwilling to live this life

I’ve carved out for myself.

I want to be saved.

Saved from myself.

I told myself not to fall in love with you.

I told myself you were no good,

you didn’t care for me.

You only pretend to pay attention;

you need me only to feed your

ego – and I fell into fodder for you.

To you, I am fuel.

I am nothing but

strands of straw,

and for whatever reason,

I’ve allowed

you to burn me,

allowed myself to be burnt.

Is there no one out there able to rescue me?

Or am I not worth saving . . .